


Checkmate Cat, says the Mouse

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Watersports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Bondage, Breathplay, Coming Untouched, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Daddy Kink, Dom Credence Barebone, Drug Use, M/M, Mild S&M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Sharing a Bed, The Blacklist - Freeform, credence crying during sex, graves shushing during sex, improper interrogation techniques, minor infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: When FBI's most wanted Percival Graves turns himself in, demanding to talk to only one, Agent Barebone, everyone's suspicions arise. The only thing more questionable is their past relations, are they related, are they former lovers?Who knows.





	Checkmate Cat, says the Mouse

**Author's Note:**

> i know, that's who.  
> soon you will too.
> 
> also yeah im bitter about that fucking show. whoops.

 

 

* * *

The waiting.

That was the hardest part.

Well, and the fact he knew that Credence probably wouldn’t remember, or recognize him.

 _That_ stung like little else, more so than knowing he was giving up his freedom, for the moment at least.

Escaping and going on the run again wouldn’t be a challenge, but it wouldn’t be as easy as the first time.

He remained still, cuffed inside his own home, and smiled cooly at the officers who eventually responded, guns and flashlights drawn, calling out for him to put his hands up.

“Certainly. As you see, I’m unarmed.”

They verified it and radioed in for backup when he smiled wider.

He was on the FBI’s top ten, his face was more than familiar. He’d just… never bothered to keep it clean shaven for long, considering the photo they used of him was nearly five years old, and he’d had dozens of different looks since then.

Paris, Rome, Milan, he’d been around. He’d stolen, he’d killed, he’d embezzled and funded a small gang war. But what mattered right now, was giving help where it was needed, to catch a much bigger fish.

He might have been in the top ten, but Grindelwald was in the top three.

 

Surprisingly, knowing how the US government usually worked, he was transferred around fairly quickly, arriving in a cold, dark room, cuffed to a table, read his rights, and promptly had a typed confession shoved under his nose.

Percival’s smile only grew, and he leaned in, so the agent would be sure to hear him,

“I’ll sign whatever you want, once I’ve spoken to Agent Barebone.”

The three blank stares he got from subsequent agents told him that perhaps his past lover wasn’t _quite_ as successful as he’d boasted, but it only made him amused, not angry. He studied his nails as he waited for the next fool to try and interrogate him.

The door slammed open and he barely blinked, looking over to see something that made his long since frozen heart skip a beat, and his mouth go dry.

“What the fuck are you playing at Graves? I’ve been on vacation! I just got engaged. Why can’t you talk to my superiors? Why does one of the world’s most wanted men only want to talk to me?”

Flushed cheeks, spit slick lips, and hair much longer than he remembered, all culminated in a gorgeous image of Credence, far better than any of his fantasies, which had been losing their luster anyway.

Percival licked his own lips, and shrugged,

“Maybe I wanted to catch up first, before facing death row. Did you think about that, my boy?”

“Why me?”

Credence didn’t sit down, he paced the room, like an overzealous shark, whose prey was already well caught, and Percival bit the inside of his cheek from smiling wider. He could still hear the younger man’s babbling chatter, lingering in the ghost of a memory, from when he’d been hopped up on the drugs that ensured he’d enjoy himself the longest. The liquor had been a simple bonus, as it helped blur over it all.

“Why, Agent Barebone, we have a _history_. Or have you wiped me completely from your mind, my boy?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Credence snapped at him, and crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling his shirt.

Percival grinned now, bringing a cuffed hand to rest under his chin, not bothering to follow Credence with his eyes anymore. He’d let him come back on his own.

“Why would I have ever… done anything with _you_? You’re a criminal!”

“We all do strange things when we’re drugged out of our right minds.”

Credence sniffed,

“So then how do you know I consented to anything?”

Percival had suspected as much, that the agent would pretend he’d been forced, hadn’t begged for it, cried for him, when he was denied and refused, before saying the magical words to make him give in.

“Because every time I stopped to check, to be sure you _did_ like it, you pleaded for more.”

He glanced up to find Credence gaping at him, and it was a simple matter to imagine his cock between those plush pink lips again.

He straightened in his chair, and made his cuffs click against the table, as he laced his fingers together. He watched as the younger man’s cheeks darkened, before he was gone, storming out of the room, surely stewing in his own embarrassment and frustration.

Percival smiled to himself.

There wouldn’t be much longer to wait now.

 

* * *

 

 

Credence could hardly believe it. The man who’d come to him in his dreams, and then put his wildest and darkest fantasies to reality, to sharp, blazing clarity, was actually Percival Graves, wanted criminal, and menace to society.

He’d not looked a _thing_ like that when they’d met, had a fling in Paris that seemed more out of a french art film than any sane person’s spank bank. Percival Graves had been smoking, had a mustache, and a smirk as wide as the Eiffel was tall. He’d charmed Credence and touched him and drugged him in champagne. Then he had left.

Credence had woken up alone, with a splitting headache, and the taste of bile in his mouth, as well as copious wetness between his legs.

So much for a decent and relaxing vacation.

Seeing the man there, sitting and looking smug as the fucking cat who’d gotten the cream, when, when he had fucking _turned himself in_ , just to get to him, one more time.

Credence had a life, had his own wants and plans, had a future, a bright career path, according to his director, but here he was, along came Percival Graves, happy to smash it all to pieces.

Why, why else had he been forced to retreat to the closest men’s room?

Trapped in the safe four walls of a bathroom stall, Credence could palm his cock through his starched work pants, and stifle a groan in his other hand, on the verge of whimpering just from the sight of the man.

‘ _His boy’_ didn’t annoy him nearly as much as he let on.

In fact, he’d been tempted to snap right back _‘Shut up, you’re not my Daddy anymore.’_

He wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction, no, it was all about him right now, right there. Even as his mind betrayed him, drawing up hazy images of that night, and he remembered something vague about being tied up, silk caressing his wrists and ankles as the man tortured him with gentle touches, before a rough fucking that he knew he hadn’t begged for.

He’d _needed_ it.

Credence bit into his knuckles as he unzipped his fly and stuck his hand into his pants, grasping at his cock, already leaking against his briefs, cursing his own thoughts. His hips thrust automatically against his palm, fucking into his own hand as shivers ran down his spine, and he imagined forcing Percival Graves onto his knees, making _him_ take it all, beg for mercy before he stopped. But he wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t even slow down. He’d take his own pleasure back from the man, maybe stuff his clever mouth with a gag while he bent him over the nearest flat surface.

_‘You like that Daddy? Like your boy fucking you open on his cock?’_

He came with a shudder, spilling into his fingers, and making a mess of the toilet rim, breath caught in his lungs.

“Fuck.”

He fumbled with some paper to clean himself off, and then tucked his softened cock away, wincing from the oversensitivity, wishing he didn’t need to jerk off twice in the morning and at night before bed.

Good job, getting engaged to the one person on earth less interested in sex than a black widow spider.

He returned to the interrogation room, feeling a touch more relaxed, but well aware his relief was evident on his face, and he caught the tail end of a smirk from the man.

“All better now, my boy? Did you think of me?”

Credence’s jaw clenched, and he fisted his hands at his sides, half tempted to sock the man in the ribs.

He didn’t.

But he did slap him across the face.

Oh. That felt _good_.

“Now. what did you need to tell me, and only me?”

* * *

 

 

Percival’s ears rang from the aftermath of the hit, and his cock twitched in his jeans, suddenly infinitely more interested in the proceedings than he’d ever anticipated becoming. Not that it was hard to pay attention to Credence, as he was, fairly glowing from his stolen moment of pleasure, smelling like freshly washed linens, and sweat.

If he hadn’t been cuffed, he’d have lunged at him, after Credence had smacked him, and bitten his neck to mark him, before dropping to his knees to put his lips and tongue to his boy’s crotch.

He knew from past experience, that one orgasm would not be enough to stave off Credence’s arousal, it was near feral when he really got into it. Percival bit his lip, flashing back over the numerous orgasms he’d rung from his boy, with minor assistance from a plug, a vibrator, and of course, the drugs.

He watched carefully as Credence began to pace around the room again, taking a moment to consider how easy it would be to overpower him, and break out.

Percival could do it.

But not until he knew that his boy would follow.

“Grindelwald. He’s planning something big. I’m here to ensure you can stop him in time, to save lives. Potentially millions.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

So he talked.

He spilled all the pertinent information, but one small detail, and he studied Credence’s face, waiting for him to catch it. His cock throbbed at the sight, watching the Agent work through it, and he barely resisted panting, just for show.

His cheek was stinging, hot from the force of Credence’s hit, and all he wanted to do was beg for another. He _adored_ his boy’s anger, his fury, it was invigorating to know he’d left such an impression, from one, granted, long night of depravity.

“You didn’t tell me where.”

“His contacts will probably be able to tell you.”

Credence’s chair screeched on the floor as he stood up again, towering over him once more, and Percival smirked.

“They won’t. Because I know you. I know how your people operate. If you’re not one of them, if you aren’t on the inside, they won’t tell you shit. Tell me I’m wrong… Daddy.”

Oh, now _that_ was playing dirty, just how he liked it.

Percival licked his lips, and tilted his head, giving Credence his other cheek,

“Nice of you to finally join the game. But I think you know it won’t be that easy, my boy.”

The burn of another slap was his answer.

His hips jerked involuntarily, and a spurt of precome wetted the inside of his jeans, dampening the seam to make it even more tempting to rut up against.

He wondered when the exact second was that Credence figured out that he _liked_ it, wanted more, and smiled to himself.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Yes.”

Credence was reaching up, loosening his tie, and Percival didn’t dare to hope, until the knot was undone, and the fabric slipped free, to be wrapped around his hands, pulled taught between his fingers. A gleam of green silk, and then the Agent stepped behind him, out of his line of sight. He remained still, frozen, waiting to see what his boy would do.

Instead of choking him, Credence used the tie to blind him, and kept it held tight over his eyes, as he freed one hand to stroke down the side of Percival’s face, before landing on his neck, fingers curling hard into his skin.

“You know I can’t kill you. I won’t. I’m not like you. I don’t take and plunder and ruin people’s lives for my own gain.”

Credence hissed against his ear, his lips so close they were almost kissing the bottom of Percival’s earlobe.

“So what _are_ you going to do to me, in the middle of this room, on camera for everyone to see?”

Percival almost laughed, listening to Credence’s indignant inhalation of breath, and his amusement was tempered only by the shifting of his boy’s hand, slipping down his shirtfront, skimming the buttons to cup right over his groin, short circuiting his brain.

“I turned them off. What do you say _now,_ Daddy?”

Please.

It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say, he _wouldn’t_ , his boy would have to force it out of him.

His mouth was dry, as he felt Credence’s own lips leave his ear, down the side of his neck, and sharp teeth nipped his skin, as one of his boy’s slim fingered hands continued to work over Percival’s aching cock, trapped in the confines of his jeans, now painfully tight over him. Lowering the zipper would be so easy, pulling his length out to graze against his bare palm would be even simpler, and Percival barely held back from asking if that was what was planned.

His senses were dulled and all at once enhanced by the blindfold, Percival could feel every beat of his heart as if it echoed around the room, awaiting his boy’s decisions.

It was definitely the most unique interrogation he’d ever been through, and _that_ was saying something.

“I want to hear the location. I’ll touch you if you tell me.”

“Sweet boy, you need to try harder. That’s pathetic.”

He couldn’t stop himself, and Credence was hardly deterred, instead, he pushed harder, grinding the heel of his palm against the head of Percival’s cock, spurring a moan from his throat.

“Fuck. Daddy. You make me so hard. It’s unfair.”

“You’re not even _on_ anything, and you’re being quite naughty, if I may say so.”

A long slow swipe of a tongue against his jawline, stopping right before his mouth, and Percival found himself panting aloud, desperate for something as simple as a kiss, though he’d be even happier if Credence sat in his lap like he clearly wanted to.

He wasn’t very subtle.

“I’m going to come if you keep this up, my boy.”

Credence’s hand stopped at once, but the blindfold remained firmly over his eyes, and he smiled.

He could get off if he needed to without further assistance, but it was nice.

“Tell me the location and you can come in my mouth.”

Oh. That was tempting too.

But he’d been there, done that.

“No, thank you.”

“Fuck you.”

He bit his lip, and shifted his hips, thrusting against empty air, but the friction of the seam of his jeans did well enough, until it was gone, and Percival could feel _actual_ air over his length.

Credence had undone his jeans while he was distracted by the lips just barely avoiding his own.

“You…!”

“Daddy… go on. Tell me.”

Fingertips teased over the slickness of his cockhead, and Percival bit back a groan of frustration. Nothing to rub against now, he was trapped. He knew his cock would start to drip onto the seat, wetting Credence’s fingers.

“I’d cane you bloody for this.”

“Oh, promises, promises, Daddy.”

He snapped his teeth, surging forward, and Credence was already retreating, standing behind him again, and leaving him horribly hard, painfully exposed, and tingling, stuck on the brink.

When Credence’s free hand curved under his chin again, and tilted Percival’s head back, he resisted smiling, as he finally felt the touch of his boy’s lips over his own.

“Can you come from this?”

Credence was asking, murmured soft, low, right up against his mouth.

“Choke me. A little.”

The agent surely had taken down perps before, with just the right amount of pressure to knock them out.

Credence’s hand was still unsure as he wrapped it around Percival’s neck, but he smiled, and pressed forward, forcing it harder.

Behind the blindfold his vision grew spotty, as his lungs burned for air, and he moved over the seat, making his cock bounce up to his stomach, smearing wetness into his shirt, and he hardly noticed Credence’s tie leaving his face, the kiss of silk gone, and a hand stroked hard over him.

Percival came with a shout, air rushing back into his chest, the hand on his throat going lax, and Credence’s other hand shaky atop his cock, catching most of his release against his palm.

“Fuck. Daddy…”

Percival’s head lolled to the side, and he fought for air, blinking as the white became color again, and Credence was withdrawing again, stepping out from behind him, tie clutched in one hand, while his come glistened on the other.

He could see Credence’s cock tenting his trousers, and it made him smile,

“Is that it? Our meetings over?”

“No. I’m going to request a transfer. See if you can’t come with me to Berlin. That’s where Grindelwald was last sighted, right?”

It was a few thousand miles in the wrong direction, but Percival nodded, and shook his wrists pointedly, making the cuffs jangle.

“How about you put my cock away before someone gets jealous and wants a turn?”

To his ever growing fondness, Credence blushed again, and then nodded, using his tie to clean his dirty hand, before coming over to his side, to redo his pants, and ensure he was presentable.

He couldn’t help thanking Credence with a quiet, “Good boy.”

* * *

 

 

It was fucking cold. That was all there was to it. Berlin in December was the fucking worst.

Well maybe not as bad as Russia might have been, Credence amended quickly, glancing over at Percival Graves, who looked just as bored as ever, under FBI control or not, he rather suspected if the man wanted to be anywhere else on earth, there was no power that could keep him away.

It was why the entire thing was so insane. Since when did other criminals care about what their compadres did?

Grindelwald was no better or worse than Graves, he’d just done _more_ of the things that had put them both on the most wanted list.

He tried not to think about what he’d gotten into in the fucking agency’s interrogation room, but it was impossible. The way it had felt to have the man at his complete and utter _mercy_ was one thing he never wanted to forget. Graves had been trembling, breathless, literally, and on the verge of begging to come. He’d nearly finished himself in his pants just from the sight of it, and god, how easy would it have been to squeeze just a touch harder, knock him out, leave him unconscious for a good while and use him for real?

It was far too arousing to imagine painting the man’s entire body with his come, barely prepare him to be fucked, and shove him onto the floor to be inside him.

He realized Graves was talking to him, and he tried to smile, grateful his raging hard on wasn’t as obvious with the sheer amount of heavy clothing they were both wearing.

“This is it?”

Credence blinked, and focused on the doorway, the room’s interior, far too small than he’d been expecting. There was only one bed, and half a couch with a rickety desk. Snow was already piled against the windowsill, and in the distance, he could see the dome of the Reichstag building.

“Well, the FBI doesn’t exactly plan to put up agents in the german equivalent to the Waldorf. Sorry _‘Dad.’_ ”

He didn’t know if anyone was listening in yet, but he was taking no chances, striding forwards and lifting his phone to scan the room, slow and careful as he could.

Graves just hung back and watched him, a smug grin curling over his lips, making Credence start to sweat under his heavy collar. Fucking asshole. He was in charge of his security yes, but he hadn’t known they would be forced to bunk together.

It wasn’t so much of a frightening thought as a downright dangerous one, for dozens of other reasons.

“Alone at last, are we?”

Credence jumped, and took out his earbuds, from where he’d been straining to catch static, or shifts in tone, any indication the place was bugged.

“What?”

Graves was sitting on the bed, down to one layer of clothing, and twirling a set of handcuffs on his finger.

“I said… we’re finally alone, baby boy.”

Credence couldn’t hide his flinch.

“Don’t call me that. We’re here for work.”

But all the fancy tech in the world couldn’t hide the fact that he was dying for it, itching to be filled, to be fucked, and only Graves would be able to satisfy him, truly.

There had been a handful of further interrogations, meetings with his superiors, explaining the situation and the need for discretion, and they’d been off, sent away, out of the country, together.

If Credence hadn’t known better, he’d have guessed Graves was pulling all the strings, but he’d been caught, his bank accounts frozen, his assets seized. He was not the fearsome figure he pretended to play at.

“You better come here, right now, before Daddy gets angry.”

Graves patted his thigh, and Credence’s cock pulsed against the seam of his pants, drips of precome soaking the fabric. He shucked off his own outerwear, and set them aside in a pile, next to Graves’ things.

“Fuck you.”

“ _Now_.”

He hadn’t been drugged, or drank anything that he hadn’t opened and poured himself. Why was he doing that? Why was he just blindly obeying?

The cool kiss of metal against his skin wasn’t covered up by the hungry way Graves took his mouth against his own, but he shivered just the same, when the man’s strong body was braced over his, and his wrists were locked against the headboard.

“Perfect.”

Buttons scattered onto the wooden floor when Graves tore open his shirt, and he tried not to care, but he had liked the design, and the fact it flattered him even when layered beneath a jacket, coat and overcoat. Fucking Germany.

Graves’ mouth was hot on his skin, over his neck, down his chest, tongue flicking against his already hard nipples, making his hips jerk up automatically, trying to get more friction, or attention.

“Calm down my boy. We’ve just started. God. you’re starved for it, aren’t you? What’s wrong? Fiancee not wet enough for you?”

Credence frowned, and yanked his wrists from the back of the bed, cuffs clanking,

“Shut up. Don’t act like you know anything.”

Graves smirked,

“I know you don’t love them. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, with me.”

Credence opened his mouth to argue but his words failed him at the first touch of the man’s hand to his cock, even just over his pants, surely he could feel how desperate he was.

“Soaked through. Now, you’re certainly _wet_ for me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, fuck, f-u-u-u-ck.”

Credence’s head fell back against the bed, and Graves’ fingers curled under the waistband of his pants, tugging them down painfully slow, finally letting his cock spring free, no other layers protecting or hiding it. He felt the man’s laughter on his skin, and he glanced down to find the criminal’s mouth poised just above the glistening red tip.

“Baby boy, you’re gorgeous like this, for me. Let me hear you.”

Credence’s eyes squeezed shut the instant he felt wet warmth around the head of his cock, and he lost control of himself, fucking up and shifting against the man, mindless pleas falling from his lips.

“Daddy, Daddy, I can’t hold on, I need to come…”

A strong broad palm was petting over his thigh, now bared from the removal of his pants, while his shirt still hung in tatters over his arms and tickling at his sides.

“Go on baby, come for me.”

Graves had pulled back and off him, only to stroke harder and faster than he might have done with his mouth and fingers combined. As his orgasm rushed through him, the man aimed Credence’s cock to spill over his stomach, and up to his chest, long wet ropes of come that cooled almost immediately, making him feel filthy and used, but oh, it was bliss.

“Daddy…”

His voice broke but he could tell that Graves knew what he was asking, leaning up and returning his mouth to Credence’s skin, cleaning him up somewhat, licking his lips obscenely, before putting a hand to his still hard cock, forcing a curse from him.

“Sensitive baby?”

“What do you think?”

Graves chuckled low in his throat, and then shrugged, pulling back, to started to take off his own pants, teasing only a moment before revealing himself, his cock hard and heavy between his legs.

Credence’s stomach jolted at the thought of having it inside him again, it had been a very, _very_ long time since he’d been fucked with anything like that.

Shitty engagement indeed.

He tested the cuffs again and found them painfully tight now. The night was not going as planned. He’d wanted to be the one fucking Graves, not like the way he was, helpless, bound, and kept from even touching back.

How had he let that happen?

 

* * *

 

Percival eyed Credence’s still panting form, naked from the waist down, legs splayed open, fairly relaxed, with his eyes begging for more, he smirked to himself, and then kicked off his shoes.

“Do you want Daddy to use his mouth first, or finger you?”

“Actually no. I’d rather fuck you, Daddy.”

Credence’s bluntness didn’t surprise him. The sheer reaction time to the vial he’d tipped into his boy’s coffee right off the plane _did_.

He’d been so jet lagged and grumbly, he hadn’t even noticed that Percival had snagged both their cups first, and passed one over. He thought since he’d been able to doctor it with cream and sugar it meant he was safe. He was adorable.

“Is that right?”

He put a hand to Credence’s face, stroking gently down his cheek, to his neck, and he fussed with the collar of his ruined shirt for a moment, waiting to see what he would say next.

“I want to bend you over and fuck you until it hurts to walk, for both of us.”

“That’s likely impossible, sweet boy.”  
He eyed the agent’s cock, which was indeed growing hard again, or maybe hadn’t ever actually softened properly, and grinned. The idea of taking that inside him was quite tempting.

Keeping Credence restrained was more than necessary, as he didn’t trust his boy not to abandon him at the first chance he got, his version of revenge, he guessed.

“I don’t care. I want you to ride me.”

Percival fairly cooed as he climbed onto the bed, and into Credence’s lap,

“If that’s what you think is best, baby boy.”

“Daddy! Come on. Let me fuck you.”

God, he got whiny when he was teased, Percival had forgotten about that. But still, the possibility of experiencing more than one orgasm at his boy’s hand, or rather, cock, was too good of an idea to pass up.

“You don’t expect me to take you dry, do you now?”

He flicked open the bedside cabinet drawer, finding, predictably a brown leather bound notebook, scribbled in mostly German and some Spanish, and flipped it over to reveal the hidden compartment in the back. Inside wasn’t a gun, but a small bottle of viscous liquid.

He ignored Credence’s slack jawed expression and squeezed a good few drops onto his palm before applying it to the massive cock in front of him, shifting up onto his knees only to then finger over his hole, locking his eyes onto his boy’s own, blown dark from lust, and possibly the drug's effects.

“Daddy?”

“Shh-hh, baby, I’m right here.”

Percival leaned in and kissed Credence, just long enough to distract him before reaching back and lining himself up, so that he could easily sink down onto him.

“Oh fuck, oh god, Daddy, you’re so tight.”

“Yes, I know baby.”

He nipped at Credence’s jaw, and then rolled his hips, letting the head of his boy’s cock find that spot inside him that would make him come quickly, and then again soon enough.

Credence writhed beneath him, his own hips making little abortive jerks, trying to thrust up, only to find he was fairly well pinned, and Percival bit back a laugh.

“Something wrong baby?’

His voice was strained, his cock hard and leaking over Credence’s stomach, and his boy just shook his head, sending dark waves aflutter.

“No! It feels good, but I’m too close.”

“It’s okay. Come whenever you’re ready, but I’m not getting off you.”

Credence’s eyes snapped open as he came, warmth swelling inside of Percival, nudging him right into his own climax, untouched, he put both hands onto his boy’s against the headboard, clinging tight to him as he rode faster, a soft whimper escaping his throat.

“Hurts… Daddy.”

“Shh-hh…”

Percival concentrated his efforts, and lifted up almost all the way off Credence’s cock, only to slam back down, and his answering moan was deafening. He hoped he wouldn’t have to gag the Agent, he couldn’t reach either of their shed scarves.

After a few tense moments, he could feel Credence growing hard again, and his entire body shuddered, forcing himself deeper, ruthless in his accidental pounding against Percival’s prostate. His forehead rested against his boy’s bony shoulder as he grunted through his second orgasm, his cock barely yielding a drop, so soon, he hadn’t recovered enough to properly come.

“Daddy, will you… put your hand on my neck?”

Percival couldn’t hide his surprise, as he sat up slightly, sweat tickling over the skin between his shoulder blades, meeting Credence’s earnest dark eyes,

“Are you sure?”

Credence just nodded, humming desperately, trying to move, to thrust up, needing friction.

“Okay baby. Move your hands if you want me to stop.”

That would be loud enough to get his attention, he knew, but Credence didn’t do a thing, he remained still, pliant, his cock the only alert part of his body as Percival gently set a hand to the slender pale expanse of his boy’s throat.

He could dimly feel a coil tensing inside his abdomen, the third and final release he’d be able to get without hurting himself, so he began to move again, as his hand tightened over Credence’s neck.

Words he’d never meant to confess in his wildest dreams slipped out as he leaned close, on the verge of kissing Credence, but not quite,

“You’re perfect baby, good for Daddy. Letting me milk your lovely cock.”

Credence couldn’t do much more than flutter his long lashes to respond, and tears were already dampening them, as Percival pressed in, kissing him properly, his hand remained firm as his hips stilled, and liquid streamed out of his cock, wetting them both, he winced as he realized what had happened, far too late to stop it.

Credence’s cock had jabbed against him, deep enough to punch through his gut, it almost felt like, but instead he’d released his bladder, and thoroughly been fucked empty.

Percival dropped his hand from his boy’s neck and shifted off his boy’s cock, and Credence’s gasp of air was met with a rush of color to his cheeks, and a strangled cry as he came again, untouched now, as Percival watched, long smears of white dribbled onto his stomach and mingled with the rest of the mess on his skin.

“Fuck, baby. You’re covered in filth.”

When Credence could finally speak, his voice was a low rasp,

“Daddy, I thought I saw heaven.”

“No sweet boy, that was just the edge of unconsciousness.”

He’d never so much as twitched a finger, so Percival hadn’t let up until the last second, and already he could see purple smudges on Credence’s neck, encircling his throat.

God he was beautiful.

 

* * *

 

Credence lay still for a few moments, coming down slowly from the impossible high he’d found himself on the tail end of, merely from a bit of rough handling. Graves, for his part, was attempting to clean him up, with a damp washrag, and he thought he caught a muttered apology, or self chastisement.

“You pissed yourself.”

Graves glanced up at him,

“Yes. That’s what happens when I’ve got a big dick up my ass. Eventually I can’t come anymore, can’t finish dry, so yeah. Sorry. Again.”

“Are you really?”

Credence’s throat hurt a bit, but no worse than being forced to choke on something else entirely, which he thought, he still wanted to do.

Graves just hummed, and then tossed aside the now dirty rag, leaving Credence’s skin tingling, as it dried slowly. The man climbed into the bed and collapsed onto his side, breathing hard, keeping his distance, so that not even a stray thrust of Credence’s hips could make them touch.

“Why haven’t you uncuffed me yet?”

Panic was starting to claw at the edges of his vision, and his head ached, something, there was something else…

He wasn’t… himself.

“Did you _drug_ me? How?”

Graves bit his lip, and shrugged,

“I’m sorry. The fact of the matter is, I do need to do some work while I’m here. You’re too fucking clever for your own good, my boy. If Grindelwald got wind you were on his case with my help, he’d be underground, a ghost once more. Can’t have that, I’m afraid.”

Credence’s jaw clenched, and his palms itched. He wanted to beat the man bloody, black and blue.

“You fucking liar. You tricked me.”

Graves petted his bare leg and he flinched away, ignoring the hurt look on the man’s face.

“Maybe. Did you ever think that maybe I do all this for your own good? To protect you? Hmm?”

Credence jerked his hands against the cuffs, and received a stinging pain for his trouble.

“I’m going to advocate for the chair. For the injection! You’re not going to get away.”  
Graves was getting dressed, silent, and pointedly not looking at him.

The man paused only to throw his coat at him, the fabric landed halfway over his body, hiding the most pertinent parts.

“I’ll tip off your boss. Let them know where to find you before anyone else does. Promise me you’ll keep thinking of me, every time you touch that pretty cock, or your fiancee begs you to fuck her.”

“It’s _him_. His name is Brian. He’s a braver man than you’ll ever be.”

Credence spat, unthinking, just wanting to hurt, to wound back, and Graves just shrugged,

“Whatever. Be safe, my boy.”

“Fuck you!”

 

The door slammed shut, and the draft that followed made him shiver. That was all. Nothing else.

 

* * *

 

 

**END**

 

 


End file.
